


we are the reckless, we are the wild youth

by RenaeIrene



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Bluesey - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Mention of Death, Multi, No Angst, The Raven Cycle - Freeform, basically I miss these characters and I wanted to experience the week after gansey is saved, curses who? we don’t know her, i know what I’m about, pynch - Freeform, theres a lotta throwbacks I hope u enjoy, this is pure wish fulfilment, trc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:06:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaeIrene/pseuds/RenaeIrene
Summary: A  lot  had  happened  in  the  week  since  they’d  found  Glendower. He  had  died.  Again.  He  had  been  saved.  Again.  The  scent  of  a  dream flower  filled  Gansey’s  lungs.  The  sun  warmed  his  face.  His  eyes  itched from  his contact lenses.He  was  alive.  He would never stop being grateful.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	we are the reckless, we are the wild youth

It was glorious at the Barns in late October. The sprawling paddocks with their sleeping animals were bright green in the sun and dark blue under the fall trees. It was hard for Gansey to tell whether the vibrant colors surrounding the property were due to most of them being the product of a dream, or because everything had felt more potent to him recently. 

A lot had happened in the week since they’d found Glendower. He had died. Again. He had been saved. Again. The scent of a dream flower filled Gansey’s lungs. The sun warmed his face. His eyes itched from his contact lenses. 

He was alive. 

He could hear his friends out the back of the Lynch family home near the grill, Adam Parrish’s soft chuckle mixing with the bright, carefree laugh of Ronan Lynch as Matthew yelled in protest and Declan admonished them all. 

He was alive. 

Beside him, Blue slipped her hand into his as they stood on the porch, the wool from her cutoff gloves tickling his palm, her fingers pressing into his skin.

 _He was alive._ He would never stop being grateful. 

He felt Blue withdraw her hand and turned from looking at the trees to protest, only to find her pulling off the gloves, careful of the fraying edges where she hadn’t knitted them very neatly. Once they were off, she looked around for a place to put them. The dark blue ripped t-shirt turned dress and tights she was wearing afforded no options, so Gansey gently took them and tucked them into his back pocket. Hands free of obstructions, he linked their fingers back together and leaned against the railing to look at her, because this was _allowed_ , and he was _alive_ , and he could hold her hands and maybe find a quiet spot to tell her that he loved her, even though she had to already know. 

Blue shivered as a chilly breeze lifted pieces of her hair that had escaped from the clips she’d used to pull them back. Gansey had watched her valiantly try to capture each section that morning, only for half of it to rebel before breakfast. Now she impatiently brushed it off her face and scowled up at the fast-moving autumn clouds overhead. 

“At least it’s not raining,” Gansey said with a smile. 

Blue’s eyes immediately dropped to his shoulders and the dry aquamarine polo shirt he wore. He’d left his coat in the Pig, which he now regretted as the wind picked up. With his free hand he rubbed Blue’s exposed arm to generate some warmth. 

“I’m surprised the weather here doesn’t change to fit Ronan’s moods,” she said as she shivered again. 

“I’m not sure that it doesn’t,” Gansey said honestly. This weather, bright and crisp and awake, felt the way this week had. He hadn’t been asleep before, not really. But he hadn’t understood the way he did now. He hadn’t had all the answers. 

He still didn’t have all the answers, but now he had the time to search for them.

“I guess it did in Cabeswater,” Blue said, and there was a grief in her voice that threatened to overwhelm Gansey. How many times had the forest given them day when it was night, summer heat and blue petals and music when they had asked for it? He felt her sadness rise up in him as she held back tears. She had loved Cabeswater as much as he had, and its loss was a blow that they were all still recovering from. 

Gansey didn’t tell her that he was sorry, because they had all yelled at him at length the first time he’d apologized after that day. Ronan had been especially furious, and Gansey hadn’t been able to look at him as he said, “Saying sorry for this is fucked up. You’re Gansey and it was a forest. I’ll just make another one. Just say thank you.”

But it hadn’t been just a forest, and they all knew it. “Thank you,” Gansey had said instead. “Thank you,” he said again now. 

Blue sniffled. She knew that he meant _I’m sorry_ too, but she didn’t yell. Instead she looked at him and smiled just a little, her sadness tucked delicately into its corners, and the tears didn’t fall. 

Gansey lifted one of Blue’s hands up to his cheek and rested it there. He was reminded of the tiny mouse Ronan had shown them in one of the barns that summer, magic because it hadn’t been magic at all, and he’d been able to hold it and feel its heart beating against his skin all the same. He could feel Blue’s pulse where she let him hold her wrist. Some small sign of tension had slipped from her expression when she looked at him this past week, a tightness around her eyes that he hadn’t recognized as pain until it was gone. Now she watched him openly as he moved her fingers to his lips. Not a kiss, but nearly one. 

This was something that had changed. Gansey now knew what it felt like to kiss Blue Sargent, and he badly wanted to again. He didn’t want to admit how much he’d thought about doing it in the past week, how driven to distraction he was whenever he was close to her or touching her. He hadn’t crashed the Camaro on the way up to the Barns when she’d turned to smile at him in the passenger seat, but he had stalled it at a turn and then flooded the engine. It was why they were late. But the beauty of owning a glorious but unreliable classic was that his friends knew that punctuality was more a matter of luck than self-discipline. Now he just needed to pull himself together enough for them to go inside or suffer Ronan and Adam’s ridicule. 

Gansey was about to suggest they head into the house, or at least get her his coat from the car, when Blue suddenly stepped into him, surprising him enough that he rocked back into the railing. Her arms went up around him as she pressed her cheek to his neck, and any desire to move fled him as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her shoulder. 

This was a less overwhelming version of how she had held him after their kiss, and again after Cabeswater had sacrificed itself to resurrect him. 

The first thing he had been aware of was grass brushing the back of his neck. His mind had known it was grass because he could smell it surrounding him and feel the dampness of it seeping into his hair and Henry’s Algionby sweater, but his heart hadn’t been sure. In those first few moments when he had returned to his body, the blades of grass had felt like the delicate brush of hornet wings, and either fear or death had kept him paralyzed. He felt like Ronan after he brought something back from a dream. He felt like he might have been brought back from a dream. 

And then, a voice in his ear, or maybe in his mind, or maybe in his memory, said, “Don’t throw it away.” It had not been a command, but a familiar plea. 

And then there was another voice coming from above him, definitely in his ear this time, tone full of command and intention, saying, “Wake up.” 

Blue’s voice, telling him to live. Blue, full of mirror magic, full of tree magic. Her voice on his recorder asking, _Is that all?_

Gansey opened his eyes. He took a breath, moved his fingers. He was not sure how he was alive, but he would earn it again, he would earn it always. He could feel that time slipping sensation again as the minute that had held him ended and the next one began. 

That next minute had been full of Blue throwing herself on him, her tears hot against his cheek as she sobbed with relief. It had been Adam’s exhausted exhale and then his smile as Gansey met his eyes with wonder, Ronan’s grief-stricken face clearing as Gansey reached for him with the hand that wasn’t holding Blue to his chest, Henry’s cheer and ecstatic laughter at the impossibility of them all.

They arrived back at 300 Fox Way dirty and disheveled and kings of Henrietta. Ronan skidded the BMW to a stop at the curb, Henry gently convinced the Fisker to not bite him as he edged into the driveway, and Gansey remembered that at some point he’d have to go and retrieve the Pig from the side of the road where he’d abandoned it and find a way to buy back Monmouth Manufacturing from Headmaster Child now that he still required somewhere to live. God, he would get to graduate. He would get to go to Venezuela with Henry and Blue.

The squeal of Ronan’s parking job alerted the women in the house of their arrival, and psychics spilled out onto the front lawn. Their expressions told Gansey all he needed to know about what they’d seen of the day’s events through their cards or scrying bowls. Calla’s expression was all subdued victory, while Maura’s gaze anxiously searched the cars for her daughter, worry and grief pinching her mouth. Gansey realized that they must have seen the demon’s death, and maybe his as well. But they had not seen him come back. They did not yet know that he was alive.

It was not every day that Gansey got to surprise a group of psychics. The advantage of riding in the far rear seat of the Fisker meant that no one noticed him until he opened his door and stood from the car as Blue and Henry got out. Maura had already started towards Blue, her arms held out like she meant to comfort her, but she stopped short at the sight of him. Confusion and concern chased each other across her face. There was a full beat as no one moved, and then everyone moved at once. 

Orla threw accusatory gestures at Blue like she blamed her for the shock of him, Gwenllian raised her hands above her head and began to sing what sounded like a funeral dirge, Maura swung to face Adam by the BMW looking for an explanation, and Calla stormed towards Gansey with an intensity that made him pull up his hands on instinct the way Ronan had taught him. 

Calla was around the car and beside him before he could do more than flinch, and she reached forward and grabbed his palm in both of hers tightly and closed her eyes. Everyone went quiet as she concentrated on whatever it was she was seeing. 

From the other side of the Fisker, Henry cast a concerned look at Blue, but she was watching them as intently as the others. “Um?” he asked. 

No one explained to him that Calla wasn’t merely just holding Gansey’s hand, but looking into him, at his past, and maybe also his future. 

From over the top of the car, Gansey could see Ronan’s mouth pressed into a thin line, Chainsaw pressed tightly into the side of his neck. Adam looked shaken beside him. Across from him, Blue was looking at the damp shoulders of Gansey’s Aglionby uniform. No one had told him the details of how he had been saved, but it was clear that this moment would tell them if they’d done it right. 

Gansey felt anxiety tighten his chest. Would he be able to tell if something had gone wrong? He’d been so glad to be alive and holding Blue’s hand in the backseat on the drive there that he hadn’t had the capacity to ask for the specifics of the magic they’d performed. Had they been closer to Cabeswater than he’d thought? Had Adam redirected the ley line? 

No, they’d been too far away. He’d known it even as he’d told Blue to kiss him. His spirit had been seen on the corpse road. This was the year he was going to die. He should still be dead. 

He’d been afraid to ask why he wasn’t dead the same way he was afraid to think about hornets whenever they went to Cabeswater. The summer had taught him that thoughts and intent could be dangerous things when you didn’t have control of them, and Gansey had no control left.

In front of him, Calla let out a soft noise of shock. Something tight in her expression relaxed, but her dark eyebrows remained tightly pulled together. When she finally opened her eyes to look up at him, she was frowning with a confusion that Gansey didn’t normally attribute to psychics. It was not the positive expression Gansey had hoped for. He steeled what was left of his frayed nerves as she shook her head. 

“It shouldn’t be possible,” she said to him. His breath caught in his throat. Then to Maura, to all of them, she said, “He’s not a copy or a dream. He’s not even a ghost like that other boy. He is himself.”

Relief, more profound than anything Gansey had ever felt, washed through him, and he gave himself a moment to lean back against the car for support and close his eyes. The familiar smells of 300 Fox Way, incense and herbs and candles, wrapped around him just as it had the first time he’d arrived there for his reading. He felt so far from the version of himself that he had been when he first knocked on their door. They all were. When he opened his eyes, he had no masks left to conceal how much he was feeling. He felt like every version of himself at once. He was just Gansey. _That’s all there is._

Maura was holding Blue’s hand, and something in her canny expression told him that she was harnessing Blue’s talents to better understand what was happening. Maura looked from her daughter to Gansey and back several times. She was shaken enough that Gansey was suddenly aware that the women here had had no hope of him surviving. They had prepared themselves for the worst because that was all they’d seen. 

Maura said to him, not unkindly, “You shouldn’t be here. We saw you die.”

“Again,” added Orla.

“And again,” sang Gwenllian.

“A habit of yours,” said Calla. 

Chainsaw flapped furiously into the air as Ronan suddenly stalked toward Gansey. He didn’t touch Calla to remove her hands from him, but his menacing presence demanded that she drop him at once. “What?” Ronan asked her. “Dying?”

“No,” Calla answered, but she was looking at Gansey as she said it. “Not staying dead.” She let go of his hand.

“Well,” Gansey said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Well is right,” Blue agreed, sensible amidst the chaos the front lawn had become. “I think we should all maybe go inside.”

***

The reading room wasn’t big enough to fit all of them, so they crammed into the kitchen, despite the fact that it too wasn’t big enough. Chairs were minimal, so most found seats on flat surfaces or leaned against walls. Gwenllian jumped up to stand in the middle of the dining table and fatally disturbed two teapots, multiple mugs and a sewing machine. Ronan stalked by Calla, who bared her teeth at him, to claim the chair to Gansey’s left, and Adam sat on the floor at his feet, leaning his head back against Ronan’s hip. Henry, who had been thoroughly distracted by everything in the room, was tugged to the table by Blue, who hopped up on its surface to rest her feet on Gansey’s thighs. 

He lightly gripped her bare ankles, grateful for this small grounding effect. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead in her lap. How many days had they been awake for now? Two? Almost three? 

During the worst of his insomnia, when he’d been searching the ley lines in the UK with Malory, Gansey had once stayed up for nearly five days before his body finally gave out on him during a hike in Wiltshire. He felt close to that point now, exhaustion blurring his vision and turning his limbs to lead. He could fall asleep right here with Blue’s hand in his hair. 

Something shockingly cold touched his cheek. He looked up to Blue holding a spoon out to him, a cup of yoghurt in her other hand. It smelled like blueberries and sugar. He accepted the offering without lifting his head, and she wiped the yoghurt from his face. 

“Maybe this should wait,” Henry said above him. His voice was full of uncharacteristic concern, and Gansey appreciated it. But he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew the details, and neither would the others. It felt like this day had held more hours than ought to have been allowed, but it was coming to an end. Gansey didn’t know what tomorrow would hold, so it had to be tonight.

Gansey lifted his head to look at the friends and psychics that surrounded him. The night pressed against the windows and crouched in the unlit corners of the room, making it feel smaller and even more crowded than it was. Just outside the back door, Artemus had emerged from the beech tree, and he stood waiting for the story too, his face full of sorrow and shame. 

Gansey’s eyes landed on Adam last, sitting on the floor beside him, his eyes focused on his open palms resting in his lap. Like he could feel Gansey’s gaze, he looked up. His normally delicate features appeared gaunt in the muted light, his exhaustion heightening the effect. He looked as lost as Gansey felt. 

“I don’t know where to start,” he said to Adam.

Adam’s expression cleared. The past wasn’t difficult like the future was. “At the beginning,” he said.

So Gansey did. They did not interrupt him as he spoke, even when he stumbled through a memory or couldn’t find the words to describe particular events.

He told them all about stepping on a hornet nest and dying in the backyard of a Washington luncheon. He told them about the voice he heard. He told them about living because of Glendower, and how his search for the dead king brought him to Henrietta. 

He told them how he’d asked the birds to show him where to find the Raven King, and his desperate race to follow them. For the the others, he described finding the tomb, and then finding no king and no favor, only bones. 

He told them about watching Ronan being unmade, and Adam’s possession, and doing what he had to do to save his friends. He didn’t have to tell them that Blue had kissed him and that it had killed him, which he was glad for. He was shocked to find that he was still embarrassed by the idea of talking about it in front of his friends and her mother, but there it was. It made him feel slightly more himself. Slightly more human that he had at the start of the evening. 

And when Gansey stopped at the end of his version of the story, Adam explained the rest. 

Cabeswater had taken from them to remake Gansey. He was made up of all of them. He always had been. Time was a circle was a wheel was a watch with no hands. It was why it had felt so right each time he met them, each time one of them joined him. It had not been Glendower they were meant to find in the end, but each other. Even Henry was meant to be there. Henry, who had spurred them all into action. Henry, who never had the chance to experience Cabeswater. Henry, whose native language was thought. He would have loved the forest, and it would have loved him too, as it loved all of them. 

And it had died for Gansey, because his friends had asked it to.

“That explains why we could never see you clearly,” Maura said after. She looked as stricken as they all did. A hollow ringing had started in Gansey’s head, the shock of the loss sweeping away any other emotion. “You were reborn on the ley line, by Cabeswater.”

“Twice,” Adam said.

“Always,” Calla agreed.

It was too much. Gansey put his head back down in Blue’s lap. It was a relief to understand. It was too much to accept. But he had to, because there was a rightness to it that he couldn’t deny. How long had he longed to be known? Doubly known. Triply known. Completely known. 

Without looking, Gansey clumsily reached down and back for Ronan and Adam. When they each gripped his hand in theirs, he lay his other palm up on the table, and Blue and Henry twined their fingers with his. They had saved him, but not for free. The grief at Cabeswater’s loss, of the truth of Glendower’s death, at Noah’s disappearance, hung over them. Linked together in the kitchen at Fox Way, each of them mourned. 

And then, because he had to, he lifted his head and looked at them all. The room had emptied except for the five of them, and only after he’d made eye contact with each of his friends in turn did he allow himself to say, “Thank you.” 

Afterwards, the all sat at the table pretending to drink the herbal teas that Jimi had passed around for them, and they made a plan. 

The ley line’s energy was weak from bringing Gansey back, and now directionless without Cabeswater. Glendower’s tomb was potentially still open and sitting under a collapsing mansion. There was his mother’s upcoming campaign, missed phone calls to be returned, swaths of hitmen and magic brokers crawling around town. And school on Monday. 

“I don’t know what I am now without Cabeswater,” Adam admitted.

“Come on, Parrish,” Henry said with false cheer. “You’re top of our class at Aglionby.”

Gansey wanted to say that without Cabeswater, Adam was who he had always been, which was enough. But Gansey wasn’t sure any of them were what they had been before, except maybe Ronan, who had always been something else entirely. 

“Be whatever you want, man,” Ronan said, but not unkindly. 

Adam looked at him. His fair eyebrows were pulled low over his eyes, and his hands were resting limply in his lap as though he didn’t know what to do with them. “Am I still a magician without it?” he asked quietly. 

Ronan jerked his chin at Adam. “Let’s find out.”

It took Adam a moment to understand what he meant, and then from his pocket he produced the small velvet pouch that held Persephone’s tarot deck.

In silence, they watched him slowly shuffle them, his fingers careful as he handled the large cards. Gansey had seen him use them before, but Adam held them like they were new to him, a deck he didn’t know how to deal.

Blue lightly rested her hand on Adam’s shoulder to amplify and calm him. “Mom always says that it’s about intent when you shuffle,” she said softly. “Focus on the question you want the cards to answer.”

Adam nodded, his expression serious as he concentrated.

Gansey thought about how, even in the reading room, no one had decorated the house with frills or lighting tricks or crystal balls to lend credibility to their profession for clients to gawk at and feel assured by. None of its occupants needed it, because they were psychics, whether they were believed or not. And there, in the light of the kitchen, on the bare wood of the table where Adam spread the cards out facedown in a wide arc, neither did he. 

When he reached confidently for a card left of centre and flipped it over, the strange, intricate artwork of the Magician looked back up at him. 

Blue reached for the card third from the end and turned over the Page of Cups.

They both shared relieved smiles with each other. It didn’t feel like an ending. It felt like _something more._

Soon after, Henry departed, stating that he needed to check in on the occupants of Litchfield House to make sure no more hitmen had come looking for him while he was out questing. He promised that he would be back the next day to, “Reconvene with the court and receive my knighthood.” He bowed to Gansey on his way out the door.

Alone in the quiet of the house, Blue took Gansey’s hand. 

Something in him settled when he looked over at her. He was incredibly in love with her. He reached up and brushed escaped strands of hair out of her eyes, and then gently laid his fingers over the bandage above her eye. Calla had washed the wound and the torn stitches from where the demon had made Adam rip them open. She’d need new ones tomorrow probably. 

She stood still in front of him with his fingers on her skin for a few more moments before tugging on his hand. “You’re exhausted,” she said. “We need to go to sleep.” 

Gansey smiled. Blue Sargent was, at her core, a sensible creature, and she was right. Being so close to her in the dark had tripped his pulse enough to wake him a little, but he could feel fatigue dragging him down. 

When she turned them towards the stairs, they found Maura standing at the bottom with her arms crossed over her chest and a disapproving frown. He felt weirdly like he had been caught doing something wrong. Gansey didn’t know why, in light of Maura knowing that Blue was his true love, on account of her having killed him by kissing him earlier that day, that the idea of him sleeping in Blue’s room felt so forbidden, but guilt gnawed at him all the same. 

Blue looked at Maura. Maura raised an eyebrow at Blue. She refused to let go of Gansey’s hand. The moment stretched with none of them saying anything, making it infinitely more uncomfortable with each second that ticked by. Gansey kind of wanted to just announce that he was going to sleep in the attic with Gwenllian instead, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to settle without Blue to make him quiet. He wanted to be selfish about this. 

Finally, sounding mortified, Blue said, “God Mom, I kissed him today and it killed him. What do you really think we’re going to be doing?” Even in the dark her cheeks were furiously pink. “Besides, we’re exhausted. We’ve been up for two days. He needs to sleep somewhere, and he’s not in any state to drive.”

No one mentioned that the bed in Persephone’s room was empty, because no one could bear the thought of anyone else sleeping in there yet. And Ronan and Adam had claimed the couch already. It was Blue’s bed or the floor or the cramped backseat of the BMW. 

Maura’s stern expression dissolved as she looked from Blue to him. Gansey didn’t need to exaggerate how tired he was. Had Noah still been there, he would have made a joke about how Gansey looked like him, which was to say, dead on his feet. A fresh wave a grief rocked through Gansey, and he scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Mom,” Blue said again. 

Maura let out a sigh. “Okay. But just because he died today. I don’t want you to think that this is going to become a regular thing. This house is already too full as it is.”

“You’ve never given me rules before.”

“Well,” Maura said over her shoulder as she walked up the stairs. “You’ve never had a resurrected Raven Boy boyfriend before.”

Blue spluttered indignantly at her mother’s retreating back.

“That’s true,” Gansey said helpfully. 

Blue shot him a shrewd look. “That you know of.”

His adrenaline spiked and tapered as she looked at him. But he really was incredibly tired. With their linked hands, he gestured before him. “I’ve definitely never been in your bedroom before,” he lied. “You’ll have to lead the way.”

In the dark, Blue’s bedroom was full of floating feathers and the shadows of trees lining the walls, books and paper and scissors and fabric littering all the flat surfaces. Gansey’s chest warmed at the familiarity of it all. 

He heard the door close behind him, and when he turned, he found Blue standing with her back to it. She watched him take in her space, and then take a seat on the very edge of her bed. They looked at each other across the two feet of space before Blue pressed her lips together tightly. Even in the dark, Gansey could see that she was awfully close to crying. 

Gansey opened his arms to her, and she silently walked into them, resting her cheek on the top of his head while he held her around the waist. 

“You have to promise me that you’ll never do something like that again,” she whispered into his hair. 

Gansey closed his eyes. Here in the dark with Blue, he could let the tears fall that he’d held back in the dining room. In a choked voice, he asked honestly, “Save our friends?”

Blue took a deep breath. “Die,” she said. The word wobbled on the way out. 

Gansey thought suddenly of her keeping the secret of seeing his spirit on St. Marks eve. Of him hearing their voices on his tape recorder and knowing what it meant. Of them choosing to love each other anyway. They had both exhausted their predictions quota. Promises though? He thought that now maybe they could start making each other some of those. And this one was not a hard one to agree to. Gansey desperately wanted to live. 

“Okay, Jane,” he said softly into her shoulder. “I promise.”

***

The next afternoon, they piled into the BMW and retrieved the abandoned Camaro. Astonishingly, it had not been towed, stolen or vandalized, despite the fact that in his haste to find Glendower, Gansey had left the doors unlocked, and it was very clearly an Aglionby car in a town full of people that didn’t much like Aglionby students. Adam worked his magic under its hood while Gansey apologized for leaving the Pig behind, and once the engine roared back to life, they got on the interstate headed towards Washington. 

In the light of day, the mansion was even more decrepit than Gansey remembered. It did not look like a place that hid a dead Welsh king. 

“What a fucking dump,” Ronan said. He picked up some loose gravel and aimed for the already cracked windows. Chainsaw took off after them, mistaking them for food.

“I think that’s being generous,” Blue said, and Ronan grinned at her approvingly. He held out his handful of ammunition to share with her, but she waved him off. Blue’s disdain for the elite and the mismanagement of resources allowed her to judge, but her principles kept her from sinking to vandalism. 

Ronan shrugged, undeterred. He offered the rocks to Adam instead, who allowed himself to pick three, and aimed at the window beside the front door with precision. Chainsaw pecked furiously at the shattered glass until Ronan yelled at her.

“Raven Boys,” Blue said, shaking her head at them. But she was smiling. 

They found the cave around the back of the house still open, the basement wall still threatening to collapse into it. A small part of Gansey hadn’t really believed that it would be there.

Without the ley line at full strength to steal time from them and carry them miles, the tunnel to Glendower’s tomb was only a twenty-two minute walk from the cave entrance. Armed with his journal, a flashlight, camera, and the nearly unbearable truth, Gansey could be methodical in his documentation of the tomb and its inhabitants. 

Before they left, he allowed himself one last look at his king. Lightly, he touched the cool metal of Glendower’s helmet, ran his fingers along his sword and chalice at his sides. He had spent nearly seven years searching for him.

The others watched him from the doorway, allowing him this farewell. 

“Even though we didn’t wake him,” Gansey said into the dark quiet, “I still feel as though he bestowed his favor on us.” None of them laughed at him when he said this, despite how earnest and vulnerable it felt to admit. Maybe because of that. “Like he knew we would be the ones to find him. Like there was never a chance we wouldn’t.”

He gently closed the door to the tomb as they left.

Back above ground and with cellphone reception, Gansey made two calls. 

The first was to his mother, whom he apologized to profusely, assuring her that he wasn’t, in fact, dead, and that he hadn’t meant to miss her fundraiser. He bent the truth a little, because she was a Gansey and would hear a lie. He got lost in an underground cave system, he told her. “But Mom,” he said, “I found him.”

The next call was to the Virginia Historian Society, and took a lot longer. Credibility was gauged, photos and videos were emailed and then emailed again with better reception, coordinates were exchanged, and credit was taken. A gruff voice told him, “Young man, you sure do have a gift.” 

He did not tell them about the shill tomb on Jesse Dittley’s property. Despite its trove of treasures, Gansey wasn’t sure if it was still cursed, and if there were still monsters spilling out of it. He was sure, however, that there were a good number of bodies now in it that he thought perhaps the authorities would be more interested in than the local archaeologists.

Before they left, Henry insisted on a group photo at the cave opening, even though it just looked like the five of them standing arm in arm in front of a hole, Gansey in the middle. “Gansey Boy,” Henry shouted from next to Blue. “Smile! You found your king!” 

But this was what he had found; his family, friendship you could swear on. He smiled.

On the Monday, Helen called Gansey. The publicity that his success at finding a centuries lost Welsh king afforded their mother’s campaign had softened her irritation at him for his absence at the fundraiser. He didn’t enjoy that his search for Glendower would now be used for political spin, but he needed his sister’s help with a matter that required her feeling magnanimous towards him. 

“You could even use the article as part of your college submissions,” Helen said. “The journal suggested five pages minimum that they can publish. Oh, and a photo. Make it look official. If you take it in your uniform in front of the school the administration will owe us a favor once it’s printed.”

“It’s not just my story to tell,” Gansey told her.

Even over the phone he could see her perfect manicure waving away this technicality. “Even better. You inspired the locals. Get quotes from each of them and send me your final draft by next week.” She hummed to herself. “Actually, make that two weeks. I forgot you have school work.”

So had Gansey. “Okay,” He said into the phone as he dug a mint leaf out of his pocket. “But Helen? I need to ask a favor.”

On the Wednesday, Ronan officially dropped out of Aglionby Academy. 

“This isn’t the future your father wanted for you, Mr. Lynch,” Headmaster Child told him.

Ronan’s smile held countless secrets. “That’s why I’m quitting.” 

On the Friday, Helen had Brulio contact Headmaster Child concerning his financial agreement with Richard Campbell Gansey III. One Monmouth Manufacturing in exchange for one Aglionby Academy diploma for Ronan. That had been the deal. By the afternoon, Gansey’s warehouse was his own again.

“You should probably send your sister something nice,” Blue said from beside him as they lay together on his bed. In the middle of the upper floor of Monmouth, afternoon sunlight slanted across their tangled legs through the wall of windows on the far side. He was so happy he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to this place. 

“As a member of the female species,” he said, grinning as she frowned at him. “What would you suggest?”

For a moment it looked like her consternation was going to win out, but then she smiled. It was the smile that made him wish she and Ronan had met earlier, before his dad had been killed. They were made of the same inexplicable stuff. In her best approximation of a upperclass Washington accent, Blue said, “I think she’d probably appreciate a bronze plate.”

“A glass one might be too obvious,” he agreed. He did not have to imitate the accent. Gansey rolled on top of her, burying his laugh in her neck. 

When Ronan and Adam walked in, they hastily pulled away from each other. They had been on the verge of a kiss, noses pressed together, lips brushing cheeks, hands in hair. They had spent the last week barreling towards this edge, stopping each time just before they fell. 

Ronan’s expression was unimpressed, despite the fact that he was holding Adam’s hand, and Gansey had walked in on far worse in the last week. “Gross,” he said. “Put a sock on the door handle next time or something.”

“Now who’s being gross,” Blue said, sitting up so Ronan had a better view of her annoyed expression.

“Uh, you guys. I just said.”

“Don’t be such an asshole.”

“Don’t be such a midget.”

Gansey made eye contact with Adam, who was lightly biting down on his knuckles to avoid laughing and therefore Blue’s wrath. When she spotted him, she furiously threw her pillow at him. It soared over Gansey’s miniature model of Henrietta, a glorious arc of feather down and cotton, and crash landed halfway down Mainstreet. 

Adam lost it. 

Blue flipped them off as they headed for Ronan’s bedroom. On the threshold, Ronan paused to blow her a kiss and then slammed his door. A second later, thumping music sounded from behind it. 

Blue dropped her face into the mattress with a groan. “That was close,” she said. Gansey wasn’t sure if she meant the almost-kiss, or being caught. 

“I thought Ronan said they’d be at the Barns tonight,” he explained. He wasn’t sure what he was giving an explanation for, the almost-kiss, or being caught. 

Blue lifted her head long enough to give Gansey a critical look before burying it again in the mattress and muttering to herself.

“Once more please?” Gansey asked, moving so his face rested beside hers on the bed. “Less mattress this time.”

Still from within the mattress, but slower so that he could understand her, Blue said, “I knew I should have stayed away from Raven Boys.”

Gansey laughed, a large, relieved noise that echoed off the high ceiling. He thought of the Gansey that had first approached Blue at Nino’s for Adam, in his uniform with the Pig parked out front. He was so lucky that she had chosen not to walk away from them, from him. 

Blue reached back and pulled the remaining pillow over their heads, shielding them from the sun that had crept up to their shoulders, as well as creating a sudden privacy. When she turned to him, their faces were so close that Gansey would count her individual lashes. He reached into his pocket for two mint leaves to give his hands something else to do that wasn’t reaching for her. He put one in his mouth, and then held the other up to Blue’s, placing it gently on her tongue. 

“We could ask your mum,” he suggested quietly. The pillow had created a small, muffled world where Gansey didn’t need to feel embarrassed. He was in love with Blue. He would like a professional’s opinion on whether it was safe or not for him to kiss her. 

She made a face. “I really don’t want to ask my mum about kissing you,” she said. “But I’m sure Gwenllian has an opinion.”

He let out a breath of a laugh that stirred the fine hairs around her face. The smell of mint surrounded them, and the sun was warm through their clothes. Blue’s fingers traced over his eyebrows and down his jaw in a soft, experimental way that made Gansey’s breathing slow. 

He knew that if he fell asleep this early, he’d inevitably be awake all night, but as the pads of Blue’s fingers ran over his closed eyelids, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He’d been plagued most nights this week by nightmares of large, black hornets and melting trees, Ronan jerking on the ground and Adam with eyes looking in different directions, and his own voice saying _I’m ready, Blue, kiss me._ He’d jerk awake to find night pressing against the windows and Ronan standing over him saying his name, telling him it was just a dream and that he was okay, he was okay, he was okay. 

Gansey knew that Ronan had only been staying at Monmouth because he didn’t want Gansey to be alone with his fear the way he had been for so long. The upshot for Gansey was that when he had a bad dream, it stayed in his head. The downside, too, was that it stayed in his head. 

He had nearly drifted off when Ronan’s door crashed open, releasing electronica and Chainsaw into the main room.

“Gansey?” Adam called. “Blue?” A moment later the pillow was lifted, and Gansey squinted as Adam’s upside-down face appeared above them with a curious look. “Oh good, you’re awake. Party at the Barns tomorrow at lunch. Blue, bring your mom and anyone else at Fox Way that wants to come. Gansey, are your parents back in Washington yet?”

“Does that include Orla?” Blue asked in a voice that indicated that she sincerely hoped it did not.

“Only if Helen comes too,” Adam replied with a smile he’d learned from Ronan. “I want to see who would come out on top.”

Gansey wanted to think that maybe Ronan was too much of a bad influence on Adam, but it was far more likely that Gansey himself had just chosen friends that delighted in provoking his anxiety. “I can ask,” he said. “But they probably have campaign engagements they’re required at.”

Really, the thought of his parents meeting Blue’s mom made him feel squirmy. He knew his parents would be just as charmed by Maura as they had been by Blue, because she was a product of the curious and bold atmosphere she had been raised in. Maura’s opinion of his parents he was less certain of. He made a mental note to speak to Adam about it later. 

Adam shrugged, expecting Gansey’s response. “Matthew and Declan will be there.”

“Is Henry invited?” Blue asked, sitting up so she could see Ronan’s expression where he stood in the doorway. She flipped him off again over Adam’s shoulder, which meant that he hadn’t said yes, but he hadn’t said no. 

Gansey wasn’t sure if Henry was ever going to fit with Adam and Ronan the way Blue or Noah had. In the past, Gansey would have had to work overtime to not play favorites with them all. Now, well. They were all playing favorites now, but they were continuing to choose each other as well, and they all knew it. It eased something in Gansey that had been wound tight since he’d met Adam on the side of the road. 

Gansey sat up on the bed to face them all and felt that time slipping sensation again, faint, but there. He could feel it, the knowledge that they had done this before, that they would do it again. He had found them all. This was how it was supposed to be.

“Excelsior,” Gansey said to them. 

***

“Would someone care to explain to me why I’ve just seen what appeared to be a deer,” Henry said cheerfully, “with a tree growing out of its head where antlers ought to be?” 

He was dressed in a jacket as orange as the Camaro, which warmed Gansey. His spiked hair was tall enough to sway lightly in the breeze, and it grazed the roof as he got out of the Fisker. Gansey was impressed Henry had managed to make the winding drive to the Barns in the car considering how little control he had over it when he drove, but he’d had a prior engagement with the Vancouver Crowd that morning, and hadn’t been able to come with Gansey and Blue. Not that Gansey had managed to get them there on time anyway. 

They stepped off the porch to meet Henry as he looked around at the property and let out a low whistle. Even with half of his face obscured behind a large pair of sunglasses, it was clear that the Barnes was working its particular brand of magic on him. It was also clear that he was trying and failing to reconcile the idea of Ronan belonging to it. “This place looks a far cry from the pits of hell. Are we sure Lynch lives here?”

Blue shared a private look with Gansey over her shoulder that Henry pretended not to notice. To Henry, she said, “There’s a lot you probably should know.”

Henry didn’t pretend to not look interested. This was the secret his mother had sent him to Aglionby searching for in the first place. It was a secret that people had, and would again, kill for. They were trusting him with a lot. But he had trusted them. And he had helped them. He had helped them save Gansey’s life. But this secret wasn’t theirs alone.

“Jane’s right,” Gansey agreed. “Let’s go inside. We need to speak with Ronan and Adam before we go any further.”

“Does this have something to do with you saying Lynch was a magical creature?”

“When did I say that?” Gansey asked.

“At the Fresh-Fresh-Eagle,” Blue reminded him pleasantly. 

“Right,” he said. He’d forgotten that particular detail in the midst of avoiding the two-slash-three hitmen Blue was politely ordering to move their cars while he and Henry escaped out the back. “That’s part of it, yes.”

Henry nodded to himself and smiled joyfully. “If you’re about to tell me that he’s the actual devil,” he said, “I promise to pretend to look surprised.”

Now it was Gansey’s turn to share a look with Blue. “Not quite.”

Inside, in the hickory-scented living room to avoid Matthew accidentally overhearing, Ronan merely shrugged when Blue asked to tell Henry the whole truth. Gansey would ordinarily be concerned by this dismissive Ronan, but it he didn’t appear worried or agitated. He was a king in his castle whenever he returned to the Barns, and today was no different. Even Henry had noticed the change in him, and watched him with a wariness one normally reserved for trick questions or trap doors. It was probable, Gansey thought, that Henry had never seen Ronan relaxed before.

“Are you sure?” Blue asked, though she didn’t need to. Ronan always meant what he said.

“Why not? Everyone else already knows, you may as well clue him in too. He was there when it all went down. Besides,” he said, jerking his chin at Henry’s pocket where he kept RoboBee, “he’s got that bee, which is definitely one of Dad’s.”

Henry’s expression now was intrigued. “One of your dad’s what?” he asked. 

“Dreams,” Ronan said. 

Henry had been there for the explanation of Cabeswater and the ley line, the hunt for Glendower and Blue’s and Gansey’s predictions. He owned a robotic bee that could read his thoughts. He had helped them destroy a demon. Despite this, or maybe because of it, it took Henry a moment to process the enormity of what Ronan was. Dreamer. _Greywaren._

Then, with a delighted smile born out of the relief of understanding, Henry said, “No wonder you added him to the cabinet, Dick Three. He could dream us up some godsdamned peace.”

“The world,” Gansey agreed, bumping fists with Ronan. 

It hadn’t meant to be a test, but it still felt like Henry had passed it. 

Adam left for the kitchen to check on the state of the patties he was preparing for the grill. Blue and Henry went out back to say hello to Maura, Calla and Orla, and so Blue could tell her mother that a bouquet of yellow flowers had been delivered to Monmouth addressed to her. No name had been on the order, but in a neat, gray card, a verse of Anglo-Saxon poetry had been transcribed. 

Gansey was about to join Adam, maybe ask his advice on navigating his parents towards a non-disastrous meeting with Blue’s mom, when he noticed Declan in the hallway leading into the living room. His expression was serious in a way that threatened the uneasy truce recently forged between the two eldest Lynch brothers. Gansey had not had to play mediator for them in weeks, but he fell easily back into the role at the look Declan shot Ronan. Subtly, he placed himself between the two of them.

Ronan sized Declan up across the room. “What?”

“How many people are you planning to tell your secret to, Ronan?” Declan demanded. “ _Dad’s secret?_ ”

“Declan,” Gansey warned. The easy atmosphere at the Barns and Ronan’s good mood had been hard won. Gansey could see the way this fight would escalate and ruin the whole day, thrown insults turning into thrown fists and hurt feelings. 

Beside Gansey, Ronan tensed at his brother’s tone, but he didn’t rise to it. Instead, he slid a cool look at Declan that made him cross his arms over his chest. 

On the far side of the room, Gansey could see that both Chainsaw and Orphan Girl had come to investigate at the sound of Ronan’s name.

Ronan frowned at them, and then at Declan. “It’s my secret to tell. Dad’s dead. Now so is Mom.” His tone was matter of fact. Orphan Girl creeped at little bit closer at it. “Henry helped that day to kill the thing that killed her.”

Declan’s expression was stricken. It was clear to Gansey that this was a topic they could only address together as a fight. 

“ _Kerah?_ ” Chainsaw or Orphan Girl asked. Maybe both. 

Gansey had a brief moment to wonder about the likelihood of the dream creature biting him if he tried to take her from the room so the brothers could talk without an audience, but Blue had already appeared with food and a dream object toy to distract her. The second she recoiled from and then threw across the room where it rolled to a stop with a noise that sounded like an entire cabinet worth of cutlery collapsing. The first she shoved wholly in her mouth and tried to swallow without chewing. 

Declan was still watching Orphan Girl when he asked, “What was it?”

“What?” Ronan asked.

“The thing that killed Mom. What was it?”

“It was a demon,” Ronan said. He did not offer more explanation than this. 

“A demon?” Declan asked, with all the disbelief this answer warranted. Ronan already looked bored of the conversation, but Gansey suspected that was because Ronan knew his indifference made it harder for Declan to believe, and Ronan never made anything easy for his older brother. 

Indeed, Declan looked like his was struggling with this information. Gansey was sure Ronan had already wrestled with the spiritual significance of a demon designed specifically to undo all that he created, and had come out the other side, if not certain, then at least confident that his immortal soul was intact. Declan, however, seemed to be asking himself the same question Gansey had wondered; had Cabeswater been the demon’s opposite, or Ronan? And if Ronan was the opposite of a demon, what did that make him?

But Gansey had accepted months ago that Ronan had always been much more than any of them realized. He had no sympathy for Declan, who had known this all his life and still struggled to accept it. 

When Gansey didn’t contradict Ronan, Declan said again, “A demon?

His tone, a politician’s polite request for clarification, set Ronan off. “Yes, a demon. That’s what I said isn’t it?”

Declan composed himself. He had been the procurer and seller of magical items for a while now, so he knew it was possible. And Ronan didn’t lie, so a demon it must have been. “Then how did you kill it?”

Now Ronan smiled. “We had to kill Gansey.”

That smile was only possible now because of the fact that Gansey was standing in the room with them, very much alive despite his dying. Declan struggled even longer with this truth, and neither Ronan nor Gansey nor anyone else in the room helped him find his footing. Someone in the kitchen was softly laughing. It sounded like Adam, and Gansey was enormously comforted by the sound. He had saved his friends. They had saved him. They could laugh. 

Ronan looked Declan in the eyes and challenged him to doubt his word. Chainsaw flew to Ronan’s shoulder and assessed Declan too. Orphan Girl, in her skullcap and oversized boots, said something in the dream language. Fireflies that were made up entirely of light and absolutely no bodies flew over their heads in the dim light of the room. Gansey was suddenly very sure that he knew what the opposite of a demon was. 

Declan narrowed his eyes at his brother. 

“Whatever, man,” Ronan said. “Anyway, this is a victory party because we fucking won and it’s dead.” His voice was ferocious. They had won, but only just. None of them could forget how close they had all come to losing. Ronan pushed past his brother. “If you keep looking at me like that you can leave. I’m going to go celebrate with my boyfriend and my friends because we killed a demon. Hey, dickweed, burn shit in the fire pit, not on the grass!” This last part was shouted at Matthew as Ronan walked out the back door.

From the kitchen, Adam said, “Tell him not to burn any plastic.”

From the yard, Henry asked, “Is wanton destruction a Lynch family trait?”

From where Ronan had left him, Declan demanded, “Boyfriend?” 

He looked to Gansey either in accusation or for explanation, and Gansey enjoyed the wild moment of Declan believing someone as inexplicable as Ronan Lynch would date him. 

“Actually,” he said, “I’m dating Blue.”

Blue looked up at the sound of her name. She had been crouched on the floor trying to teach Orphan Girl how to fold the napkins into origami, but the dream creature seemed more interested in eating them instead. 

Declan said to her, “I thought you were dating Adam.”

Now her smile was as sharp as Ronan’s. “Oh no, that would be your brother.”

“Parrish?”

They left Declan in the living room with his shock and joined the others around the grill. 

As the afternoon edged into evening and the light faded, everyone watched as dreamt fireflies came to life throughout the backyard. When asked, Declan produced a small, metal object that looked like a crude weapon. Ronan took it from him and roughly hit the top of it, expelling a gasp of even more floating lights; the source of the ones already dotting the dark. 

When Blue reached for it, Ronan let her take it reverently from his hands. His expression was pleased as he watched her sharply tap the top of it and smile in awe as they swirled around her. 

The dream object was passed around, and soon the small patio surrounding the grill glowed with the brilliance of thousands of bodiless fireflies. 

Gansey said, “You marvelous creature.”

Ronan’s smile was full of light. 

The victory party lunch turned into victory party dinner turned into the sounds of loud talking and louder laughing, music blasting with heavy base and Ronan and Matthew roughhousing and nearly breaking a vase that turned out couldn’t be broken, despite appearing to be made of glass. It was Declan and Calla getting into a debate about politics, Adam and Blue teaming up to make fun of the color of Gansey’s shirt and being easy with each other for the first time in weeks. It was autumn chill pressing in against the dark windows, the feeling of time moving forward, of things in place. 

It was Gansey and Blue going in search of more throw blankets to take outside and finding themselves in a quiet, darkened hallway in the depths of the house. It was Blue getting lost and turning into his chest by accident, and Gansey starting to let her pass him and then deciding not to instead. It was hands tugging collars and knees pressed against knees, faces tipped up and eyes slipping closed. It was every almost kiss they had ever come close to. The night felt like possibility, like victory. Gansey was dangerously close to jumping over that edge on a night like tonight. 

“Jane,” Gansey whispered, his lips brushing over her healing eyebrow. 

Her mouth touched the hollow of his throat in response. Quietly, she said, “My mom said that it’s probably safe.” He felt the words more than he heard them. 

Gansey pulled back only far enough to look at her. A strip of light from outside cast in from a high window, and it fell on one side of her face as he moved. Here was Blue Sargent in front of him; mystery and answer. “You asked you mom?” he asked quietly. 

“She’s a psychic, I didn’t have to ask,” she said with a grin. “You’re tied to the ley line, so she can’t really see you clearly, but she said that the first time was part of a ritual. The others agree; unless you plan on sacrificing yourself again, it should be safe.”

“Safe as life,” Gansey said. 

Blue’s smile was wry, nervous, absurd, expectant. His own was the same, a mirror. His hands shook as he placed his palms on her neck, and he could feel her pulse racing beneath them. Her own hands trembled where they rested in his hair. 

“Excelsior,” Blue whispered. 

Slowly, aware that this might kill him, beyond caring, sick of waiting, Gansey leaned down and kissed her. 

The kiss was this: it was the day he’d bought the Camaro and immediately broken down on the highway. The day they woke the ley line. The day his search had brought him to Henrietta and he had stood on the side of the road with his map and his journal looking at the distant mountains on the far side of the valley, and felt like he was home. It was Blue’s voice in his ear telling him to _wake up._

Gansey pulled back with the feeling of Blue’s lips on his. Her hands had tightened in his hair and her eyes were closed. With a sigh, Gansey rested his forehead against Blue’s and let his happiness flood his chest. 

Below him, a small, relieved laugh escaped her. “God,” she breathed. “I’m so glad I didn’t kill you twice.”

It was the two of them falling into each other laughing, no longer careful where their mouths landed because it didn’t matter anymore. It was Blue taking his face in her hands and kissing his mouth hard enough that their teeth clashed, and then again, softer and longer. 

When they stumbled back out into the lounge room, fingers interlocked and still laughing, the music was turned low and all the adults had left. The room was full of Ronan’s lights and their friends, spread out over the floor on piles of cushions and blankets.

Blue ignored Ronan’s raised eyebrow and collapsed onto a spare section of floor, pulling Gansey down with her. He settled his head on her stomach. He steeled himself to appear casual as he met Ronan’s and Adam’s eyes, and failed immediately at Ronan’s smirk.

“You good, man?” Ronan asked him.

“Actually,” Gansey said, ignoring the mocking. “I believe I am.” 

This was not one of those times that they let him get away with being earnest. 

Adam threw a pillow at them.

Blue yelled, “Hey!”

Henry shouted, “Whoop whoop, Gansey Boy!”

Ronan said, “Keep it in your pants, bro.” 

“Boys,” Blue lamented, though Gansey could feel her laughing beneath him.

“Raven Boys,” Henry agreed.

On the lounge room floor, they had all silently agreed that for one night they had no plans to make, no threats to endure, no magical forests to rebuild. Gansey had the distinct impression that they were all savoring the night as much as he was. They only had one more year together like this, he knew. Unfairly soon they would all have to start making decisions that had the potential to take them away from each other, if only temporarily. 

He wasn’t going to waste any of it. 

“What now?” Blue asked him. The others had succumbed to exhaustion one by one, and Gansey could feel himself in its clutches. Blue was slowly working her fingers through his hair, coaxing him to sleep, but he sat up at her question to look at her. 

She could have meant anything, but Gansey knew what she was asking. They had both known where this year was going to take them, the path laid out before them by psychics and fate and choices that hadn’t really been choices. Until they’d chosen something different. Gansey’s death had been foretold. Blue’s kiss killing him had been foretold. Him surviving had not. Both of their lives were now suddenly devoid of predictions, and the future and all of its possibilities stretched out before them.

“Something more,” Gansey said. 

It seemed ridiculous to Gansey that there could be something more than the year they’d had, but he knew Blue could feel the rightness of it too. There would be more. There was more out there for all of them. Now they got to go out and find it.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me in my dumpster over on tumblr @wildhvnt


End file.
